


Shock and Surprise, Love at First Sight

by Killiluv89



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mpreg, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-01-05 00:46:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18355136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killiluv89/pseuds/Killiluv89
Summary: Michael is depressed and nervous after Rosa's death and Alex's leaving Roswell.  He decides to take UNM's full scholarship offer and leaves, that is far from the end of it for him though.  (I have started rewriting, hope you like it.)





	1. Leaving Roswell

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, I love everything! This is an MPREG, if you don't like don't read. This Story has quite a lot of OOC moments so don’t be surprised when they crop up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving Roswell was a very hard decision for Michael to make, but he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rewrite, hope you like it.

Mid-July of 2008

Alex had left, a fact that the eighteen-year-old Michael Guerin could barely comprehend. They had made love in his father’s tool shed occurred several weeks before, and then his father Chief Master Sergeant Manes had walked in. To say the least the best moment of the teen boys’ lives was destroyed by way of a hammer because Michael refused to see the abuse inflicted upon Alex by his father. Michael’s hand had been all but destroyed.

He was angry. Admittedly they had discussed the possibility of leaving, for maybe about five seconds before everything in the shed began. Alex had wanted to get out from under his father’s thumb and his cruel and abusive behavior, Michael, he just wanted Alex. Alex was the first person outside of his siblings that he cared about and would have followed him to the ends of the earth. Then Rosa Ortecho died.

The ‘accident’ had ruined everything for Michael’s future. He had had a scholarship to the University of New Mexico, as his brother Max had said, “Your test scores are money.” He had Alex, who wanted to escape to that new world of academia with him and it finally looked like Michael was going to sleep somewhere other than his truck or Alex’s toolshed. Isobel, Max and Michael’s sister, had been blacking out and during one of them had killed Rosa Ortecho, Max’s crushes sister, as well two other girls. The deaths had shaken the town and derailed the plans of Michael, Max Evans, Liz Ortecho and Alex. 

Michael and Max couldn’t leave Isobel. Her blackouts caused a massive risk to their secret, thus grounding the teens to Roswell, New Mexico for the near future. Liz left, with a little mental push from Isobel, and abandoned the plan she and Max had to go away together before college started. 

Staying in Roswell was not in the cards for Alex either, his only real chance of survival was to get away from his father as soon as possible and so he took up his placement with the United States Air Force Academy, which he had applied for on a whim many months earlier and only as a last ditch effort. His father had let him, knowing that the military lifestyle would get him away from his ‘perversions’, something the man had been attempting to beat out of his youngest son since he was eleven-years-old.

All of this happened in those weeks between Michael and Alex’s time in the shed and now. Now everyone had graduated, moving off to their own lives. Isobel had started taking online classes for event coordinating, something her sense of style and flare would make come in handy. Max had applied to work with the sheriff’s department and was accepted, a mere desk jockey to Sheriff Jim Valenti until the older man thought he was ready for more active duty. Liz had taken off for Denver to start he scientific aspirations. Then Michael, he had started working full-time at Sanders’ Auto Repair and scavenging for remnants of the spacecraft that had brought he, Max and Isobel to earth, all those years ago. 

In the last couple weeks however, Michael had been sick. He vomited most mornings, and a couple times throughout the day. His abdomen had been aching, sometimes bringing him to tears, but the worst were his abilities. He had a predominant gift of telekinesis and it was going haywire. 

When he was a kid, he had spontaneous eruptions of his gifts which led to furniture or some other things flying across the room. That made whichever foster home he was in, that much more difficult. He shuddered as he remembered the religious home he was in after he returned to Roswell when he was eleven. That had been the worst, and that was saying something. That had started happening again, and it took a lot of energy to fix whatever shattered or flew across the room before someone noticed. 

He had started parking his truck inside Sanders’ lot, making it easier for him to start work the minute he woke up, or in case of a late night drop off, he could start work on it immediately. It made him a lot more money than he would have otherwise, but sometimes the lack of sleep made his weird symptoms worse, and it was starting to scare him. 

He hadn’t mentioned the problems to Max and Isobel, and Alex wasn’t around anymore to talk to, so Michael felt alone in his illness. He had wondered more than once if he should leave, the UNM scholarship was still up for grabs and moving away from the strain of Roswell, if only for a little while would probably help him. The possibility of his siblings approving of his, although temporary, relocation was highly unlikely.

That being said, even the acetone had started to come up, and that was very bad. His stomach hurt so much worse without his painkiller, between the vomiting and the painful ache in his gut he could barely keep any form of sustenance down. That had pretty much sealed the deal as far as leaving. Max and Isobel would hate it, they would probably try every trick in the book to get him to stay, but he had to get away, or else he was going to die. UNM get ready for Michael Guerin, you are in for a wild ride.

Early November of 2008

College was easy for Michael; the semester had sped by since he started classes in September. His general education classes were relatively simple for the Michael’s hyperactive brain. He was taking thirty credit hours, compared to the average fifteen of most of the other students and was already three weeks ahead of his classmates and more than once he had been asked to tutor one or two of them. Which he did for a minor fee, because it often cut into his work at the auto yard, he got off campus.

Right now, he was working on two term papers, one for his English class and the other for his history class. Both of which were degree requirements, much to his annoyance and then studying for his history, physics, bio, math and psych exams. Not that he really needed to study but doing a minor review after being a few weeks ahead in his readings was probably the best plan. 

Since he didn’t have a place to live during break times, he had spoken with the scholarship board before the semester started and his room and board funds had been redirected to more class hours after also speaking with his high school teachers, all of which said he would be able to keep well ahead. 

His full-time job with the auto yard covered his rent and utilities and small amount of groceries, because he got most of his meals on campus thanks to the school’s covering his meal plan. Good thing Michael wasn’t terribly picky. Plus, the food was better than what he had in high school. 

His illness had pretty much ended around the time he started classes, his abdomen was still distended, to add to the weird picture, but the vomiting and the ache had stopped. Unless he smelled something weird, but that wasn’t that often because his nose was used to most odd smells because of his job and bio class, taking an anatomy class wasn’t ideal but he figured he could kill two birds with one stone between his general education course requirements and trying to figure if there really was much difference between the human body and his own. Nothing so far.

The thumping coming from above Michael’s head for the third time that night was starting to irritate him. He had a few off-campus neighbors who didn’t know the definition of noise ordinance and unfortunately the landlord didn’t give much of a damn or notice because she didn’t live in the building. This specific occasion the party had been going on for at least three hours since Michael got home from work, and he had to be at the school for breakfast at six before his first class at seven. 

He had class and work six days a week, keeping him busy and the five hours he granted himself for sleep were a must. If their lively event was still going at midnight, Michael was going to use his powers to destroy the group of three’s sound system. His powers were a gift in these kinds of situation and if he didn’t get caught, he didn’t really care about destroying personal possessions if they were causing a disturbance in his schedule. It was after eleven for heavens’ sake. 

He closed his laptop with a sigh, finished the last bite of his sandwich and chugged the last of his coffee. He yawned and decided to call it a night, hopefully he could block out that damn ruckus from upstairs. He needed to sleep and if he didn’t, he shuddered at the thought. Nothing good would happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think?


	2. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael could barely stand, so he calls his brother to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the Chapter Two rewrite, I ask again if you decide to read this one if you enjoy it more or less than the first. That being said, my regular Beta is unable to really look at my work at present which is why it has taken me so long to post again. I am a student so that is part of it, but without my beta I'm not very confident in my work. So if anyone would like to volunteer to beta for this story I would be happy to talk to you about it. Thank you all for reading!

February 13, 2009

The winter semester started over a month ago. During the schools’ closed period, Michael worked an additional twenty hours a week at the auto yard, much to his boss’ chagrin. He didn’t mind paying Michael the overtime, he worked hard, and he was damn good at it, but the kid needed to rest. Which is why it was only twenty hours and not thirty, which was what Michael offered initially. Michael was saving the money up for when he finished school, hopefully after his masters and moved back to Roswell. So, every little bit into his savings was nice.

When he got back to school though, the pain had come back. Worse than ever and stretching around his entire body. His legs were swollen, but he could still move. His back ached almost constantly and spread around to his abdomen and hips every single day. The tears from Roswell were back and he was scared more than ever, but now that he was so settled in Albuquerque, he refused to give up. The distention of his abdomen had become far more pronounced, which he covered with large sweatshirts and sweaters, thank you winter. Little did he know though, everything was about to change.

He woke up with the usual pain, not able to sleep flat on his back anymore he was curled around his pillow on his side, wishing things could go back to normal. As he went to sit up, fortunately it was Sunday, because he couldn’t get his legs to cooperate. The pain that had started out the way he was used to now, vibrated down his legs, making it impossible to keep his feet under him. Michael inhaled and tried to stand again, knowing that his bladder was ordering him to make it to the bathroom. He managed to make it up, for about ten seconds before his knees gave out and he fell to the floor.

His breath flew from his lips heavily, his whole body was hurting now. A constant unending cramp was crawling across all his muscles and for the first time since he moved, Michael knew he needed help. A hospital was out of the question, for obvious reasons and the idea of calling his family filled Michael with dread, but another impossibly painful spasm made the decision for him.

He saw his phone on his dresser, where he put it to charge every night, and summoned it to him with his powers. The idea of trying to get back up seemed ominous, he could barely feel his legs at this point with how all his weight was resting on top of them. Michael dialed the memorized number of his brother. A lecture was coming his way, that was for sure, but Michael didn’t have a choice.

“Hello,” Max’s voice answered cordially. A professional voice that made Michael flinch. Michael had only called on their birthday and holidays since moving, so Max and Isobel were sour with him about it. Not that he could blame them, but this was urgent.

“Max, I… “ he began, trying to figure out how to say the words. “It hurts.” 

“Michael, what’s wrong? What hurts?” Max asked flipping from cold and distant to worried brother in the matter of seconds. It took a lot for Michael to admit to pain given his upbringing, so this was bad.

“Everything Max, it hurts to move, to breathe. I need help.” Michael explained, tears clogging his voice. He wanted to get up, his legs were going numb, but his arms were the only things mobile now and unless he wanted to army crawl on his massive belly, it was nearly impossible. 

“What the hell do you mean, Michael, where are you?” Max was in panic mode, now that he knew he could about it, he could feel a distant echo of the pain Michael was talking about in the back of his mind. For the first time since Michael left, Max didn’t care about the argument that had separated the three of them, all he cared about was helping his brother. 

“I’m at my apartment, I thought it was just the same pain I’ve been dealing with but this morning I could barely stand, I can’t even get up enough to take a piss.” Michael laughed and sobbed all at once, as the strain on his bladder decided to remind him it was there. 

“Ok, alright, I’m coming, but Michael it’s at least a three-hour drive and that’s with good traffic. So, I need you to try to get comfortable, get to your bed if you can, and if you can’t get to the bathroom just use a bottle or something, use your powers I won’t bitch.” Max rambled as he grabbed his wallet and keys running for his jeep, a birthday gift for his eighteenth birthday. The thing would not like him for speeding down the freeway, but he needed to get to his brother as soon as possible. 

“I’ll give it a shot, but every time I move to get up, my legs just give out.”

“Then use your arms, focus all your energy on them and get to a spot you can stay for a few hours. I am out the door, and on the way but it will be awhile. Do you have any acetone, it may help?” Max tried to soothe his terrified brother, or at least help him not think about the pain. Acetone eased pain usually, so surely his brother had some in his apartment. 

“I haven’t used it in a while, it’d been making me sick, so I stopped taking it.” Michael explained, chewing on his lip as he admitted this to his brother. 

“What do you mean, making you sick? As in throwing up. When was that happening?” Max asked as he felt a stress headache forming behind his right eye. 

Michael had heaved himself back up on his bed while his brother spoke and was in the process of summoning a Tupperware container from his cabinet into the bedroom so that he could, finally, relieve himself. His arms were sore from all the effort he took to get back onto the bed, but he answered his brother anyway. “Before I left, and since, so since about October I haven’t even been trying to use the stuff.”

“…and you’re only telling me this now!” Max yelled, frustration driving his words. 

“I didn’t want to worry you… you were so focused on Isobel and it just… never felt right to tell you.” Michael explained in between heavy breaths as he laid back against the headboard hoping that it would help with the near continuous pain he was experiencing. “Max, its…” Michael said gasping as he felt something in him seize again. “I… can’t… breathe.” With those words, the Tupperware container fell to the floor right past his bedroom door and Michael’s head fell to the side, the phone slipping from his hand.

“Michael, are you there? Michael!” Max yelled into his phone as he drove, stepping on the gas nearly surpassing the speedometer when he lost his brother’s voice on the other end. 

 

Three hours later Max was banging on his brother’s door, hoping that somehow, he would answer. After losing him over the phone, Max had called him over and over trying to just hear that his brother was still alive, his last line of “I can’t breathe,” terrified Max. 

On the other side of the door Michael had regained consciousness, but barely. His breath was raspy and painful, and he felt weaker than he had when he woke up. On top of it all though, he had pissed his pants while he was out cold. So, there he sat on his bed, soaked in his sweats which stunk of urine barely able to move. When he heard the muted voice of his brother, he summoned what little bit of his powers he could and turned the deadbolt lock before laying his head back against his pillow. 

“Michael! Michael, where are you?” Max called out, running as he heard his brother’s soft whimper. 

He barged into Michael’s bedroom and what he saw left him in horror. Michael couldn’t see it because his head was facing the sealing, but his grey sweatpants were stained red down his thighs and Max could detect the scent of iron in the air. What the hell was wrong with his brother. 

“Max,” he whispered through the tears running down his face. “It hurts.”

Michael was at his brother’s side in an instant, first noticing the hyperdistended abdomen and squashing the first words that wanted to come out of his mouth of “why didn’t you tell me about this.”  
“I know, can you tell me exactly what it feels like?” He asked while pressing on the sizable mass that took up most of the space on his brother’s belly. 

“It’s like continuous cramping, it just won’t stop. I can barely move; my body almost feels like its filled with led.” Michael explained, at least his breathing sounded better. 

Max didn’t want Michael to see his clearly bloody sweats so to distract him he asked about the lump. “How long have you had this?” He asked carefully pointing it out. 

“It’s just been there, maybe since I got here. I didn’t really notice it to much until around Halloween.” Michael explained, his eyes starting to feel heavy again.

“Hey, Michael, stay awake for me.” Max ordered gently tapping his brother’s cheek. “What about this pain, how long has that been happening?” 

“Awhile.” Was Michael’s one-word answer and Max was rolling his eyes at his brother’s near evasiveness. 

“Michael, I need you to listen to me, ok?” Max said and Michael weakly nodded in response. “I think whatever is wrong with you has something to do with this,” he indicated the large bump on his brother’s belly by gently placing his hand on it. When his brother didn’t flinch from the light contact, Max was just a little bit relieved. No pain from touch was a positive sign. 

“Ok,” Michael responded, to tired and weak to say anything else. 

“I have to get the mass out of you.” He stated simply, hoping his brother didn’t freak out. 

“How,” Michael asked while finally meeting his brother’s gaze.   
“I’ll have to cut it out Michael.” His brother inhaled sharply looking at Max's face with a glare that could have melted the arctic. 

“Oh, hell no!” he attempted to yell, but it came out as a harshly worded whisper. 

“I’m sorry Michael. If there was another option, I would use it. That thing, whatever it is, is hurting you. It could have been slowly killing you the entire time its been there. It needs to come out and since we can’t go to an actual doctor, it’s all we have.” Max attempted to explain as Michael turned white as a sheet from his brother’s words.

“… but cutting it out Max. That alone could kill me.” Michael reasoned and while Max agreed with the statement, it was the only logical choice. 

“I won’t let that happen Michael. Worst comes to worst; I can use my powers to heal you if something goes wrong. It needs to come out and that is your best chance of survival with how bad off you appear to be now.” He said looking at the blood on his brother’s pants again. He couldn’t lose his brother, even though they hadn’t really been talking, the light presence in his mind was always a comfort to him, knowing he was safe. 

“Fine,” Michael said under his breath and Max sighed in relief. Now he needed to get everything ready, Michael was not going to be happy with what he was going to bring into his apartment in order to save his life. He could imagine the horror that reflect in his brother’s eyes when a knife went anywhere near him. 

“I’m going to go get what we need. I’m going to grab some more nail polish remover and I hope that it will help, because heaven knows, typical painkillers won’t.” Max explained quickly going to get up. 

“I told you, its been making me sick.” Michael argued weakly. 

“It’s either that, or straight up where you feel everything. I have a sneaking suspicion you’re not one for that idea either.” Max reasoned and Michael bit into his lips harshly to hold back his initially planned response. He let out a breath after a moment and nodded at his brother. This really was his only choice after all.

Max stood back up, kissing his brother on the forehead to calm him. Michael had tear tracks going down his cheeks and it brought out that worried part of Max that had been dormant for the last several months since his brother left Roswell. He really didn’t know what was going on with his brother back then, but seeing him now, it was all starting to make sense when his brother said he needed to leave.

He scoped out the main part of the apartment, hoping to find a surface more solid than Michael’s bed to do what needed to be done. He thanked the heavens when he found the surprisingly long table that was covered with books and a hardy looking laptop. ‘It’ll do’ Max thought, gently shifting everything from the table to the counter in the kitchen area. After that task was finished, he found Michael’s keys beside the door and left, locking it behind him.

 

Michael was so tired; his entire body was still screaming, and he knew he smelled. He also noticed that Max kept looking at his legs, worry etched in his eyes. He tried to get a look at them himself but between his position and his belly, that wasn’t happening. Whatever it was, Max would be able to help. He hoped. 

It was half an hour later that Michael heard boots against his floor and the apartment door shut and lock again. The sound of things being moved around the living area was a little disconcerting, had someone broke into his apartment? Why would Max be playing around with his possessions, when he laid up in his bed, probably dying? 

“Max,” he croaked out, his voice having lost even more strength since his brother had left. 

His brother’s dark head appeared in the bedroom entry way. “I’m here, just getting some stuff set up.” 

“What do you mean?” Michael asked trying to sit himself up a little and wincing when he managed it.

“Well, for what I need to do, I need a large surface that I can sanitize.” Max explained and Michael paled even more, if that was possible. 

“I am REALLY not going to like this, am I?” Is the only thing Michael could think to say. 

“Yeah, you are really not.” Max nodded, clapping his hands together, ready for the next part. Moving Michael out to the sanitized surface. He produced a bottle of nail-polish remover. “Now I need you to take a few sips of this before we do the next part?” 

He went to his brother’s side again and gently lifted his head to help him sip at the alien painkiller. After a quarter of the bottle was gone, about five minutes later, Max placed the bottle aside and assisted in getting Michael into a sitting position on the side of the bed. Which would be much easier to get his brother up, but first, the clothes. 

“Michael, you are not going to be happy about this, but I need to get your clothes off. All of them.” Michael shook his head vehemently, his chest was one thing, but only a few people had witnessed his lower half, and his brother was surely not on that list. 

“Well the bump exceeds your waistline. So, you can take them off now, under your own power or I can do it for you.” Max gives his brother a ‘try me’ look and Michael concedes with a light huff.

The movement to get rid of the clothing was harder than the brothers’ thought. The shirt was easy enough, Michael just had to pull it over his head, but the pants were another matter completely. Max had to lend both shoulders for Michael to even manage to stand up long enough to pull the waist of the pants down under his butt so Max could help get them the rest of the way off. Unfortunately, when Max got the pants, including underwear down to Michael’s knees, he saw the seat of the pants. 

“What the fuck?” Michael cried out in horror, groaning as he caused the pain to erupt even worse than before. He took in the sight of the bloody red stain on the seat and down the back of the legs from them. “Max, is that…” he inhaled, “is that what I think it is?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” Max answered as calm as possible. Focusing on keeping his brother focused on the task at hand. He still needed to get Michael out to the living area, and his brother freaking out about the blood would just make it that much more difficult. 

“Max, I… I am actually scared.” Michael whimpered; eyes still fixed on his now removed pants.

“We’ll figure this out Michael, I promise.” Max swore and with one giant heave got Michael to his feet. Michael’s arm was draped over Max’s shoulder and together, the two walked out of the bedroom and to the table now clean and smelling of bleach. A small pillow from the couch was at the end closest to the bedroom and from there you could see the kitchen, opposite that the couch itself. 

Michael made it up to the table, with a lot of effort and laid back against the pillow provided. The position hurt his back, but compared to everything else, it was a cakewalk. He turned his head toward the kitchen and wished he hadn’t when he noticed the small side table, usually next to the couch, not two feet away between him and the counter. Upon that table was something Michael had horrible nightmares about since he was a child, about getting dissected by some government agency or another. The very sharp looking instruments were on top of what looked like a small pile of saran wrap that looked wet and smelled strongly of alcohol. 

“Michael!” Max calls, his voice slightly frantic. 

“Huh, what?” Michael turns back to his brother. A new form of shaking taking over his body, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was sitting butt naked on top of a big plastic table.

“Focus on me Michael, looking at that stuff is just going to make the whole process worse. Do you want some more…?” He shakes the bottle of acetone near Michael’s line of sight to the couch, where Max hopes he keeps his gaze the entire time. 

Michael does a response check to his stomach since it had been about twenty minutes since he was given some earlier, and nods as best he can, certain that the painkiller wouldn’t end up reappearing. Max tilts the bottle a little more and Michael ends up downing the rest of it, now feeling thankfully loopy.

“Now here is the deal Michael, when I go to the other side of the table, I want you to keep facing this way. Focus on the couch, or a pillow, whatever, just keep looking in this direction. I am going to give you a belt, for you to bite down on. Hopefully you won’t have to use it that much but since we only have the acetone, we need it just in case it gets too much and you need to make noise.” Max explains, trying to keep both he and Michael from panicking. He didn’t want to cut into his brother any more than his brother wanted to be cut into, so this was far from an ideal situation. 

“Just do it Maxwell,” Michael orders, tears running down his cheeks in a mixture of fear and pain. While he was a little out of it, he was still fully conscious, and he knew that this was going to hurt, no matter what. 

Max nods, putting the folded-up belt between his brother’s teeth and walking to the other side of the table, where all his instruments were, along with gloves, many bottles of rubbing alcohol, and fishing line. The last part, an improvised version of surgical sutures. Even with his powers, Max needed a secondary route to close the incision when he was done. 

‘The rubbing alcohol is freezing,’ Michael thinks as his brother starts swiping it up and down his torso, a little to close to his groin for Michael’s liking but he really couldn’t say a word given the fact that his brother is just trying to help him stay alive. After the third run by with the gauze and alcohol combination, Michael hears his brother gulp. He clenches his eyes closed prepared for a cut or something, praying to whatever deity existed out there in the world that the acetone did its job.

It didn’t, or at least, he didn’t think so. The sharp cut down the center of his abdomen had him screaming into the belt as rivers of tears fell down his face. His hands clenched at the sides of the table, trying with all his might to keep from moving and making this agony last any longer than it had too. 

“I’m sorry Michael,” he hears Max say, but his ears are ringing, and he almost feels like the muscles of his stomach are on fire. He focusses his gaze on the couch like Max ordered and keeps it there, until finally, like a welcome gift, he passes out.

 

Max sighs in relief after he gets passed the first couple layers of muscle of his brother’s stomach. The bump, mass, whatever you want to call it, was a lot deeper than Max expected. He kept pressing forward though, avoiding any areas that appeared clear, or at least normal of a human body. The problem was, Max only had a high school level human biology course to go by and that left a lot to be desired on information, even for someone who is an alien.

His most recent cut had unveiled an oddity. He felt triumphant because he was certain that this new sight was the source of the rather large belly his brother had been sporting in recent months, but at the same time, what he was seeing should be impossible. He looked up to his brother’s face, noticing his unconscious form but still seeing everything moving as they should be, he cut directly above the thing inside of Michael.

The little fluid sack around it popped at the slightest pressure from the blade in Max’s hand. Max was quick to drop the blade on his makeshift tool table and grabbed a baster that he had just in case of something like this, though he had expected blood, not whatever this stuff was. Once the fluid, or most of it at least was removed he got his first good look, and gasped. 

He carefully reached in, terrified, and pulled the tiny bundle up into his arms. In his arms was a tiny humanoid form, a baby. Michael had been pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts, opinions. Thanks for reading, even if you don't like it very much. I've been putting so much into this rewrite that my mind just won't turn it off. I still feel that my original posting didn't reach its full potential, thus the rewrite. Next chapter coming up soon, I hope. Beta's welcome!


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